Judith of Oldstones
by OkamiobidalaYT
Summary: In 793 - King Ecbert of Wessex, oversees an alliance between himself and the Kingdom of Northumbria - A marriage between his son Aethelwulf & Princess Judith, however the more time his daughter-in-law remains at court, the more Ecbert finds himself drawn to her. Judith contemplates a life of subservience and learns quickly that her new husband is not the man she thought he was...


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**Judith of Oldstones.**

—

_High in the halls of the Kings who are gone,_

_Judith would dance with her ghosts,_

_The ones she had lost and the ones she had found,_

_And the ones who had loved her the most,_

_The ones who's been gone for so very long,_

_She couldn't remember their names,_

_They spun her around on the damp old stone,_

_Spun away all her sorrow and pain,_

_And she never wanted to leave,_

_Never wanted to leave,_

_Never wanted to leave,_

_And she never wanted to leave._

**Afterwards **_**\- **_

"_This house... is haunted." - Bjorn, "I hear the careful whispers and feel the heated glances as if they were on my own face. This place is for the ghosts of two lovers dead and gone. On my honour, we shall not exorcise them. They have endured and earned their companionship in this world and in their Christian Heaven." - Bjorn Ironside. 'Járnsíða'. Son of Ragnar Lothbrok. Son of Lagertha. Leader of the Great Army. King._

**Chapter 1 - "The Game of Lords and Ladies."**

**Before **_**\- **_

King Ecbert had woken earlier than usual, long before dawn. The scurrying of the guards to stand to attention at his passing revealed he wasn't the only one who had just woken up. Ecbert gave a decidedly icy look to both guards and then, crossing through to the next room, he suppressed the urge to laugh out loud at his so called 'protection' detail... they were certainly going to be reprimanded, but later. For now he needed to leave his house - as soon as possible, in fact. He needed to be gone from the villa...gone from the people in the villa as an added bonus. He needed to be gone from the elaborate rooms and especially he needed to be gone from his bed...

He didn't want to see... anyone. Not even his newly married son, Prince Aethelwulf. The taxing march towards the Eastern tower (and the very steep climb to the very top) was just what he needed. Every step felt like penance and the early morning rainfall was freely running from the top of his head, down his neck through his golden hair. It froze his body - and he wanted to be numb - to forget the object of his dreams and blot out the memory and the sexual tension that lingered still.

The stone set buildings of the keep felt the cold weather before the rest of the walls did and it was wet and worn. As he reached his destination he took a deep breath of fresh air and upon releasing it, he outstretched his hands before him, touching the side slab, looking out east at the soon to be sunrise. Ever so slowly, as if kneeling for prayer, he lowered his head to rest between his hands...face bowing down, forehead on the stone. Despair emanated from his weary body.

"Can I trust you, O Lord?" . "Is this part of your plans?"

The walls of the Eastern tower were festooned with colourful banners made from the most expensive and elaborate materials. Frowning, Ecbert's sleepy head remembered something about a feast. Something his advisor had mentioned clicked in his head...and since he hadn't been listening then - it was no surprise he was here now... in a simple tunic... only just remembering the days significance then and there.

Ecbert would don royal clothing and place upon his face a mask of something like complicity, lightly veiled with reassurance... and of course, laced with lies and smiles for the nobles. (Ecbert knew just how to play the game of Lords and Ladies, it had been instilled in his mind from his time at court with Emperor Charlemagne, as a young man.)

It simply wasn't like him to forget important events, but 'she' made him a little crazed. Who was he fooling in his head... 'she' made him completely insane.

Up on this tower however, he was trying to become still enough to become one with the stone. Cold, hardened and unfeeling stone- it felt right. He almost forgot about his duties and the one, single, heartbreakingly monumental tear inside his soul. He felt... a sickness of the spirit. Deep deep deep. It penetrated into the veins, pumping his heart loudly and sweeping through the flowing blood and deeper stIll. He felt it in the bones and...the root of his being. He stopped to think:

"This can't just be lust."

Then

"GOD BE GOOD-" He exclaimed loudly...Suddenly Ecbert's tone changed to anger... and slammed his head down hard, where he had been resting it. He felt a horrid rush inside his skull and a single wet droplet ran down his face. His fingers caught it and came away bloody. 'Wonderful' he thought.

It would seem, as Ecbert had already known, that the truth always ended in bloodshed.

"This girl...-" His voice was rasping as he breathed hard and the tears were almost overflowing - threatening to wet his face, further. Swallowing, he whispered: "-Oh this sweet girl. Mine to see every day. You, sweet merciful Christ, would say it is a blessing. A blessing from the Lord." His voice licked of dry sarcasm and he had a bitter taste in his mouth.

He was Ecbert, King of Wessex... an esteemed philosopher, a man of ambition...of respect and of honour. Surely he was better than this?

Deep deep deep down inside he knew he was a liar and a cheat. His lies couldn't keep up with his truth... something that happened every day since he was in her presence. Probably he would reach some hell after death and even more probable it was that his sin could increase tenfold because of-

"-Judith." He spoke that part aloud. The pronunciation of her name on his lips sent chills up and down his body and a wave of urgency descended upon him and swept through him to his nether regions as if a soft hand stroked lightly all the way across his length.

Ecbert looked up then. The sun broke through to light up the darkened villa, ever so slowly he could recognise familiar buildings and ground layouts. He tried to pick out her window. The many fancier chambers were on this side of the building but which one framed his son's new bride? He envisioned spotting her, still not properly dressed...sleepy and stretching upward gently, quite catlike... this of course would enunciate her womanly curves of creamy white skin. Just that thought made him feel harder that ever. Judith. Those breasts. If not for his son, he would have all but demanded control over all aspects of that woman's life, both pleasure and business, wishing to shower sweet favours upon her luscious milk and honey skin.

To control her would be impossible though. She was like the wind. She blew her soul at him and he was like a mountain... so what happens when an immovable object is bombarded by an unstoppable force?

"-The Lord givith and the Lord taketh away." Came Ecbert's answer, voiced aloud.

It was true. Judith was everything good and yet he was not at liberty to exorcise his lustful demons by bedding her and quitting her. And so, he was trapped in limbo.

In Ecbert's troubled mind, all things related back to her. If he saw the stable boy out with a horse in the gardens... then he imagined watching Judith, naked as the day God made her, sitting proud on that trotting mare. Her breasts would bounce with every bump and her cheeks would become flushed with exhilaration and shyness. He fantasied that he was in command of her and she was his to exploit and manipulate...but other times he thought of himself helplessly dominated by a nymphomaniac version of her.

His thoughts were not his own, for they dwelled with her every night and most of the day. In his mind they knew just what to say to communicate pleasure to each other. If Ecbert read a scroll, perhaps one of the hundreds in his chambers, he would feel her behind him leaning over to read to him... Strange that Judith could read, strange and wonderful.

A single meal alone for Ecbert always sparked fantasies about feeding her with his fingers. In his mind he would place a tender morsel of meat inside Judith's mouth on her tongue and her lips would close around his fingers. When he pulled back it would be with a popping sound as her mouth suckled then gently released his now wet fingers.

The alliance between King Aelle of Northumbria and himself had seemed like a business transaction to begin with. His son Aethelwulf wedded to Aelle's daughter Judith...how very fair she was...how delicious she looked in her white wedding robe walking through the procession of nobles and holy men. (And how dare they even look upon this sweet Cherub Angel in their midst.)

That wedding, so glorious in it's way, was one of the most painful things Ecbert had felt since the passing of his wife, so many years ago... This wedding God oversaw and no doubt had blessed. Their union was the social event of the year. In fact so many turned up to see their handsome Prince betrothed and then married - they had had to expand the banquet through the big door of the main hall and out into the courtyard. This made Ecbert seethe further.

...Judith? Well... she played her part well. Innocent and pure as only 'young love' could look. But always there she was in his dreams - Sometimes daring and exuding sexuality and sensuousness- Other times she was almost shy and he would take the lead.

"This will be the end of me, one way or another." Giving up on staring at the windows, Ecbert looked to his own erection which clearly stood out in the rough spun tunic he wore. He gave himself a whole three minutes to calm himself, but it had no effect.

**Afterwards **_**\- **_

"_Living inside... inside these castle walls..." - Lagertha. "...one such spirit dared to die for love and the other, now fearless and with nothing to lose, fell from love's height... By the grace of Freya...The things we women do for love." - Lagertha, Hlað(a)-Gerðr. 'Giant's Daughter'. Shield Maiden. Queen._

**Before **_**\- **_

"However much I love you, wife. It shall never be enough. For my love for you is great."

Aethelwulf... for all his strength and popularity... was not an articulate man, nor could he enunciate any feelings except those about fighting or war.

Sitting poised over her sewing, Judith stifled a yawn and attempted to keep her actions and emotions in check. Her husband Aethelwulf was, if nothing else, a good man. Never would he hurt her.

As a girl, Judith's priest, while preaching a husbands rightful power over his wife... had also told such memorable tales to her... tales of women wedded and bedded all by large, brutish men... Sometimes not even wed.

"Ungodly union" he would say... "All heathen men come in the deathly hour of night to steal away the bodies and souls of the female congregation." Judith had never met a Northman, but vowed young that with a little self control and with discipline, she would not be one of those girls carried away... she would be good and true and safe.

While in theory, this seemed a sound plan, Judith's inquisitive nature led her towards knowledges forbidden to her. She learnt to read, which opened up whole new worlds and she painted and created sigils in her sewing for specific gowns. Many complimented Judith on the dresses she made, though her father frowned upon the idea. She ended up secretly making gowns for nobles she grew fond of in her lonely existence at her palace.

The very first devious development in her young life was the stealing of a black pearl encrusted brush that belonged to her young cousin, Lothair. Later, she would learn that the girl was flogged for a month for misplacing that brush. Judith's bed had sagged with an additional weight, carefully sewn into its mass. Whenever Judith felt the need for freedom and adventure her fingers would trace the seem where the brush stayed hidden... she had desired it but was too afraid to use or even hold the brush until many years had passed. Along with some other meaningless possessions, Judith brought it with her to Wessex and her new married life.

Her father, the King of Northumbria, had donned a certain look upon seeing the offending brush, but he said nothing. She was a woman now with a responsibility to produce heirs for Aethelwulf and perhaps that was what stayed his hand and silenced his short to follow stern lecture... all for which he was well known. Her mother was distant and her sister a simple goodly girl. Judith reached to pick it up and clutched the brush with both hands as memory washed over her.

Aethelwulf had paused hesitantly to behold his wife's distant look. Judith took that opportunity to smile deeply and reach outward with her arms to encircle his broad shoulders, thinking: 'No one is taking me away in the night.'

"I love you, dear husband." Came the platonic reply that Aethelwulf loved to hear from his princess. Engulfed in his arms she thought again of the brush and her promise to herself. 'NO ONE is taking me away.' She frowned as a single tear escaped her eye and rolled down her cheek. Why did that make her sad?


End file.
